Monday, August 22, 2005

Gene Kruppa says "qqqqqqq"

I’m still awake. What the hell?

Here is a list of things that have gone through my mind in the last hour or so:

I just finished reading this piece of fun by Amanda over at Pandagon. I know it’s wrong to say so, because it’s very mysonginistical and junk and stuff, but I bet Amanda makes a mean Apple Pie. Mmmmm. Apple Pie.

* * *

I went back and read this post (with the ensuing discussion) in which I argued about something or other with my good buddy [name deleted to protect the innocent]. I never knew I was such an asshole. Amazing!

It just occurred to me that a former student worker of mine, whom I worked with for over three years, was recently hired by either the Department of Homeland Security or the Immigration and Nationalization Service. Or something else. I don’t know. The point is that I never e-mailed her to congratulate her. I really AM an asshole, aren’t I? Damn.

* * *

I swear a lot after midnight, don’t I?

* * *

Especially after I’ve had a few drinks.

* * *

Tomorrow is Monday, which means I don’t have to work. I’d love to lord it over everybody as evidence that my job rocks and yours doesn’t. But my job does not rock. It doesn’t even roll. My job is about as much fun as shaving your eyebrows with a meat grinder. In fact, the only saving grace is that I get a three day weekend. And even then I spend all my time doing this instead of working on stuff that might actually get me a better job (or ahead in my current job).

* * *

I hope my boss doesn’t read this. He might not appreciate the meat grinder comment. Or maybe he will! Who knows?

* * *

I’m fat. REALLY fat. And I have trouble pronouncing the word “indubitably” without laughing.

* * *

My left pinky shakes sometimes. For no reason. Maybe I have Parkinson’s disease. Or cancer. Or maybe I just need to stop drinking so much fucking caffeine.

* * *

Given the choice, though, I hope it’s Parkinson’s or cancer. Cuz there aint no way I’m giving up caffeine. If I have to go through even a single day at work with a straight head, I might have to start fire-bombing.

I often find myself wondering if the current system of college is merely a pyramid scam run by guidance councilors and people with PhD’s that couldn’t get jobs in the real world. But then I also find myself wondering how people like Jean-Paul Sartre weren’t laughed out of intellegenstia circles for being the blatant morons that they are because, really, how can one expect to craft an effective theory of social justice based on selfishness and subjectivism? This proves you can’t trust me.

* * *

Who the hell is Jean-Paul Sartre?

* * *

I believe that the Designated Hitter is a worthless addition to the traditional sport of baseball. It, along with the preoccupation on power and hitting for average, have lead to a decline in overall skill and thought in the game of baseball while reliance upon the basics of skill and ideas like team chemistry have been defenestrated as quaint ideas of an age past. Then people look to GM’s like Billy Beane and wonder how they can do so well with a small market team. It just goes to show that people are dumb.

* * *

And they no longer care about baseball.

* * *

My pinky is starting to shake again, which means it is getting harder to type. It’s a good thing I never learned to type correctly, otherwise I’d be screwed. As it stands, I type primarily with my fore and middle fingers while the thumbs pound on the space bar. I imagine the Parkinson’s will take these fingers in good time, but until then imagine the fun we can have. If you consider this kind of thing fun, that is.

* * *

I just took another swig of Mountain Dew. That should help things out.

* * *

Watch this. I will type only with my pinky: aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa qqqqqqq qqqqqqq qq qqqqq qqqqqqqqqqq. That pinky has a mind of its own! Look at it go!Aaa aaaaaaaa aaaaaaaaa aaaaaaaaaa aaaaaa aaaaaaaaaaa aaaaaaa aaaaa That there is amazing! I’ve never seen anything like it! QqqqqqqqqqqqqqqqqqqqqqqzzzzzzzzzzzxxXxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxx cccccccccccccccc c c c ccccc

* * *

I think I’m going to nickname my pinky “Gene Kruppa.” Either that or “Muhammad Ali.”

* * *

How bored does one have to be to spend countless minutes staring at his pinky in wild fascination? And how pretentious must one be to refer to himself in the third person?

* * *

More Mountain Dew!!!

* * *

Did I ever tell you that I almost bowled a 300 once? I did! Nevermind.

* * *

This has been an effective waste of time. I think I will try to go for a walk. Perhaps that will make me tired enough to sleep. Either than or I’ll get sweaty. One of the two. Have fun.

The Me

I'm a bald man with bad eyesight. I'm 5'11" and I eat chili with reckless abandon. I'm a Cincinnati Reds fan and lover of literature. I once tackled a midget. I work with computers but my computer rarely works. My ears ring, my feet hurt, and most popular music will make my toenails curl if the weather is right. I am hopeless when it comes to understanding women or economics or why the sky is blue instead of some other color. I enjoy the smell of freshly cut grass and the sound of rain in the forest. I believe in God, but I sometimes wonder whether He believes in me. I watch television on Wednesdays and I listen to the radio when I'm in my car. My baseball coach used to tell me that I ran so slow he had to time me with a calendar and my band director once said I could be a professional cornet player if only I'd practice. I am madly in love with my wife and she is madly in love with the original CSI. I wake up each morning with a smile on my face because, even if it's cold and grey and rainy and dreary, the first thing I see in the morning is her face, and it is the most beautiful site in the world; especially after I put on my glasses.